


A Common Night

by Iphigenia_R



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23411968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iphigenia_R/pseuds/Iphigenia_R
Summary: They spent a lovely night together, and Medoc found something.(I'm not a native English speaker, please be gentle for all the grammar mistakes here.)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Original Male Character(One-Sided)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 15





	A Common Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vitreous_Humor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vitreous_Humor/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sorrow and Sighs and Mickle Care](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21668989) by [Vitreous_Humor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vitreous_Humor/pseuds/Vitreous_Humor). 



It was lovely, as usual. Well, at least for Aziraphale.

  


Today was the third time. They were familiar with their own roles now. Medoc came on his own, Crowley used a whip, and Aziraphale watched.

  


After sixty whips, Aziraphale demanded for stop. Crowley laid down the whip, looking up at Aziraphale with questioning eyes. Beside him, Medoc lay on the table, facedown, eyes red and swollen because of tears, and his lower lip was split during the torture. And his back. If he were a human, he would certainly die of those wounds.

  


"Crowley, my dear boy, come here." 

  


And Crowley did so. He sit down beside Aziraphale, then was wrapped in the strong arms immediately. One hand was in his hair, and the other around his waist, held him tightly and possessively. Crowley leaned closer, snuggling up to the angel, relaxed as Aziraphale stroked his hair, kissing him longingly and lovingly.

  


"Are you alright?"

  


"Ngk."

  


"Then that's all for today. Thank you."

  


Previous aggression left his body, Crowley made some indecipherable, soft noises, then became pliant and tame in Aziraphale's arms. 

  


"I love you." Aziraphale whispered. His voice muffled in Crowley's fiery hair, but was audible in the silent room. "You are so good, so good for me."

  


Crowley still didn't say a proper word, he was totally lost in the warmth of the angel. Aziraphale continued petting him, murmuring praise to him, which almost made him purring. Flushed, Crowley buried his face in Aziraphale's neck, hair rubbed against his chin.

  


From the top of Crowley's head, Aziraphale glanced at Medoc, snapping his fingers. Medoc could feel the stripes on his back were all healed by an angelic miracle, but the tremendous pain still lingered on his skin. He propped himself up with shaking hands, moving awkwardly to off the desk. His trembling legs couldn't support him, then he fell and hit the ground. 

  


Forced himself to stand up steadily, Medoc put on his clothes with difficulty. A lowest demon like him wasn't qualified to use miracles on the earth, especially when he was sneaked out. So he had to do it in the traditional way. Well, at least the angel solved the two biggest problem: his wounds and angel-like smells.

  


When he finally managed to make himself decent, Aziraphale raised his head to him again, voice calm and even.

  


"I think you could go back yourself?" And Aziraphale's tone made it very clear that the only acceptable answer was yes.

  


"O…Of course. Er, goodbye?"

  


But Aziraphale didn't even pay attention to his direction.

  


Medoc forced himself to trudge towards the door. It shouldn't be so difficult, he thought deadpan, given that all his physical wounds were healed by the angel.

  


"Close the door, please."

  


He should leave now, he should close the door and leave immediately. But something swirled inside him, something he couldn't name, made him want to stay. Just for a while, the devil on his shoulder whispered, didn't you curious about what happen next? Didn't you wonder what Aziraphale would do _to Crowley_?

  


So he stayed.

  


He would be cursed, he would be damned, whatever. He shifted his body weight uncomfortably, peeping through the crack, unsure of what he was expecting.

  


Aziraphale took Crowley's right hand in his own hands, lips gently brushed knuckles. 

  


"You have done very well tonight. Now, let me give you something good."

  


The lips against Crowley's knuckles was kissing them now. And he rolled up the sleeve to expose the wrist. The blue eye tattoo was still there, of course. Crowley flushed even farther. Normally he was simply let the sleeve covered it, then he didn't have to think about it and deal with it everytime he wasn't or was with Aziraphale, who caused this complicated situation.

  


Aziraphale guided his right hand to his thigh, and quickly unzipped his trousers. Crowley stared, because what else he could do?

  


" _I know_ you've fantasized about this. I know you want this. Now, I want to give it to you."

  


Well, he did considered to masturbate with his right hand, with wrist exposed and Aziraphale could _see_. But…

  


Hand shaking, Crowley reached down for his cock, grabbing it hesitantly. And tried not to imagine what it was like in Aziraphale's eyes.

  


"Go on."

  


Crowley started stroking himself. His whole body shuddered by the simulation his own hand gave, and, _Aziraphale was watching him._

  


He bit off a sob, speeding up the movements. Aziraphale kept ruffling those fiery hair, ice-blue eyes fixed on Crowley without a blink. Crowley closed his own eyes, trying to escape the gaze lingered on him unabashedly. Then the hand in his hair moved down to the nape of his neck, squeezing him hard. Crowley whimpered, eyes flew open, almost undone.

  


"Crowley, Crowley. My sweet, good demon. Love of my life, please look at me. You've no idea how precious you are. Always so beautiful, always willing to indulge me. I love you. I would make you know that if I had to."

  


The cordiality and the undisguised love in Aziraphale's eyes knocked him down. He arched his back, thrusting into his palms helplessly, desperately. Aziraphale smiled.

  


"You always want my full attention, don't you?"

  


The tattoo-the eye flickered, reminding Crowley of the fact that Aziraphale could watch him all the time. Even from a distance, even without Crowley's permission or awareness.

  


"And you always have it."

  


Crowley came, and stained both his hand and Aziraphale's coat.

  


He slumped into Aziraphale's arms, breathing hard, unfocused golden eyes stared at the angel blankly. Aziraphale cleaned him with a quick miracle, gently kissed his forehead.

  


"Well, want to sleep? Or cartoons again?"

  


"Tired."

  


Before they moved towards the door and found him, Medoc vanished in the air, backing straight to Hell.

  


Tonight was a lovely night, which meant once again, he'd seen Aziraphale's beautiful white-blond hair, pure blue eyes, and he was even lucky enough, fond smiles. All Medoc remembered, however, was the unearthly, _angelic_ eye on the right wrist of Crowley.

**Author's Note:**

> I am thinking about the eye Aziraphale put on the Crowley's wrist, and after Sorrow and Sighs and Mickle Care, Medoc's reaction if he found it. Though I am digressing…
> 
> And I really want to write a Medoc finds out, I have no idea why it end up like this(


End file.
